


Spotted In Strange Places

by Krasimer



Category: LazyTown
Genre: And relents when he finds out that Glanni has a baby, Cryptid Sportacus (LazyTown), Cryptid Íþróttaálfurinn, Don't even know if I'm allowed to play with this AU, Glanni is a single father, It means "Trustworthy", M/M, Robbie and Glanni are human, Robbie and Sportacus are friends from infancy onward, Tryggvi is Sportacus's real name in this, Íþróttaálfurinn tries to chase the new humans off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9607355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: Glanni waited until the realtor paused, then spoke up. “Why is this place selling for so cheap? Is there something I need to know before I buy it?” he snorted at the vaguely panicked look on her face, watched as it disappeared a fraction of a second later. “What, did something like a quad homicide happen here?”“Well,” she cleared her throat, a delicate fist over her mouth as she did. “Nothing like that, I can assure you, mister Glæpur.”“Then what is it?” Glanni arched an eyebrow at her, letting his son grab a finger and cling to it with all his baby strength, smiling a little before sighing at the drool that followed. “Was it used as a crack den or something?”“Honestly, no,” she shrugged, folding her hands over the clipboard and papers she held. “No one who ends up living here ever wants to stay, for some reason. Many of them cite the local wildlife as a reason, so I guess there are just some stubborn raccoons. We’re not an area known for cougars and coyotes, mister Glæpur. Some of them were put-off by the signs of whatever is living in the,” she gestured to the window. “Quite franklyamazingbackyard."(Based, vaguely, on Celestialess's Cryptid AU.)





	1. There's Something In The Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Title: Glanni, Monster Lover
> 
> Trust me, better that I didn't.

Glanni sighed, bouncing his son in his arms as he looked around the house.

The place was fairly new, the white paint on the walls still shiny and fresh, the entire building up to code. It was a gorgeous house, three bedrooms, and two bathrooms, meant for a family that needed space and he loved it from almost the first moment he saw it.

The only thing that had given him pause was the price.

It was settled in a good neighborhood, near schools that would keep his son out of trouble and on a good path in life, or so they claimed. The grocery store was four blocks away, his job was a twenty-minute drive down the road. It was, in almost all respects, perfect.

But the price worried him.

Glanni waited until the realtor paused, then spoke up. “Why is this place selling for so cheap? Is there something I need to know before I buy it?” he snorted at the vaguely panicked look on her face, watched as it disappeared a fraction of a second later. “What, did something like a quad homicide happen here?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat, a delicate fist over her mouth as she did. “Nothing like that, I can assure you, mister Glæpur.”

“Then what is it?” Glanni arched an eyebrow at her, letting his son grab a finger and cling to it with all his baby strength, smiling a little before sighing at the drool that followed. “Was it used as a crack den or something?”

“Honestly, no,” she shrugged, folding her hands over the clipboard and papers she held. “No one who ends up living here ever wants to stay, for some reason. Many of them cite the local wildlife as a reason, so I guess there are just some stubborn raccoons. We’re not an area known for cougars and coyotes, mister Glæpur. Some of them were put-off by the signs of whatever is living in the,” she gestured to the window. “Quite frankly _amazing_ backyard. If you follow the trail down a way, it splits in two directions.”

“Good hiking?”

“Oh, definitely,” she turned to look, following Glanni’s gaze. “One path leads to a river, the other goes further up into the woods. Follow it for about half an hour and you’ll find the best view of the city.”

“Hmm,” Glanni watched a bird flit between the trees and nodded. “I like it. Not a fan of hiking, personally, but…” he glanced down at his son, large grey-blue eyes pinned on the same bird his father had been watching. “I just want someplace good for him.”

He looked back at the realtor. “That’s literally it, though? No one likes the wildlife enough to snatch this place off the market?”

“That is it,” she nodded.

“…I’ll take it.”

She held up the clipboard. “Just going to need you to sign a few things.”

 

~

 

“No, mom,” with a phone tucked under his chin, Glanni picked up a jar of baby food, wandering over to where he had left his son in his highchair, sitting in his own chair and popping it open. “I don’t need you to come and stay with us for a while. I’ve got everything handled, all the stuff is moved into the house.”

He paused, spooning some of the mashed apples into the waiting baby mouth. “No, mom, I said we’re fine.”

Another pause.

“Well, maybe I like being an actual adult. I’ve got my own house and I bought it with my own money. You and dad don’t have any stake in it, which makes it, surprisingly, not any of your business. No- Mom,” Glanni breathed out through his nose, scooping some of the escaping food back into his son’s mouth. “Mom, you’re not listening to me. I am twenty-one. I own a house. I have a son. I think I count as a legal adult, even if both of my parents once tried to get me court-ordered legally incompetent.”

An inquisitive squeak made him smile and he offered another spoonful of food to his son.

“Well, it’s not your fault?” he shrugged, nearly dropping the phone. “We all knew she didn’t actually like me and we all knew I’m gay,” he made a face. “Mom, it’s not…Would you like me to hang up, right now? Because I will. Yes, I will, especially if you use that word again. Marissa and I, we weren’t going to last. Everyone knew it except for you two because you two are in constant denial of your son being anything but what you want him to be.”

Small hands patted at the tray and he smiled again.

“No, mom, our marriage ended after seven months because she found someone she actually loved. I’m not going to keep a leash on her,” he stuck his tongue out for a moment. “I’m not that much of an asshole.”

More waiting that ended with him sighing heavily and rolling his eyes. “Alright mom, I have to feed Robin, he needs food before he goes to bed for the night,” he held the phone away from his ear, wincing. “Say goodnight to grandmother, Robin.”

His son looked at him with an obviously unhappy face, what seemed to be distrust in his eyes. “Euhhnnn,” he groaned, patting at the tray again.

“You heard him mom, goodnight!” Glanni clicked the button to end the call, dropping his phone to the table off to one side. “Very good, Robin, we don’t like grandmother, do we?”

Robin squeaked at him, chubby hands clattering on his tray.

“Ah, your attention is grabbed by one thing,” Glanni got another spoonful ready, offering it to him and smiling when Robin reached for it, leaning forward in his seat. “Hopefully she doesn’t actually follow through with her idea of visiting us. We like our privacy, don’t we?”

The look his son gave him, mouth closed around the spoon, seemed to agree.

 

~

 

Three months.

That was how long it had taken for something to happen. Glanni swallowed the nervous laughter that threatened to bubble out of him, covering his nose to ward off the stench. On the ground at his feet was something that may have been a rabbit at one point in time, nothing left but bloodied, tissue-covered bones and a few pieces of what might have been an intestine.

“Well,” he muttered, going back inside to grab gloves and a garbage bag. “Not the most pleasant thing, but not the worst.”

He cleaned it up quickly, setting the bag in the garbage can and spraying down the area with some water. The blood washed away quickly and Glanni glanced back inside to where Robin’s crib was, the other half of a baby monitor system on his hip. At least his son hadn’t been with him, he himself hadn’t noticed the pile of remains until he’d almost stepped on it. Robin was at an age where he had started putting everything in his mouth, no matter what. His crawling was improving too, and Glanni had felt comfortable with setting down a thick blanket and letting him crawl in the backyard.

If Robin had discovered the remains, he was sure that some of it would have made it into his son’s mouth before he could stop him.

Glanni was just glad it hadn’t happened.

 

~

 

A couple of weeks later, there was another body.

Something larger, maybe a raccoon, and Glanni stared at it, mind half-asleep as he bounced his son on his hip. “…Do you think maybe you could give me a minute to wake up before dealing with this?” he asked the woods surrounding them. “It’s too early, we’re both exhausted.”

Robin whined miserably, his face red and his nose leaking.

He had developed a cold, his coughing keeping him up all night, and all Glanni could think of was the sister he’d had for less than a year. She had constantly been sick, her small body frail and fragile, and she had fallen asleep and never woken up when she was eight-months-old. He had been four.

Everything his son did was in relation to memories he had kept for almost twenty years, worry coloring his every action. If Robin fell, Glanni couldn’t help but remember his sister.

He blinked, pushing away that thought as best he could.

Right.

Animal corpse.

Ew.

He turned back inside, settling Robin into his highchair. Glanni rubbed a hand down his face, turned the coffee machine on, then went back outside to scan the woods. He had heard a noise, a sound that didn’t belong in the quiet of his backyard, and with Robin on his hip, had gone to investigate.

The bones had teeth marks in them, he realized when he looked at the pile. Sharp ones, ones that had cracked the bones, shattering them in places and the middles were hollowed out.

Glanni made a face and looked at the woods again. For a moment, he thought he could see something moving, just beyond the trees. When he looked a little closer, it was nothing. Inside, the coffee machine beeped, begging for his attention, and his son shrieked in response. Two things needed him to focus on them, right now, and it certainly wasn’t a day for wandering into the woods in his pajamas.

 

~

 

“Don’t you ever worry about those woods?” came the odd, out of place southern drawl of one of his neighbors.

Glanni sighed, turning to look at her. “Missus Eberhard, wonderful to see you.”

“Mister Glæpur,” she greeted with an eyebrow raised. “How wonderful to see you. Like I said, however, don’t you get tired of those woods?” she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back on one heel. “They’re awfully big, and you’ve got-“

Robin chose that moment to squeal, his arms flapping as he kicked his little legs. He was strapped to his father’s chest, peeking out over the edge of a carrier, and he looked unhappy. “No,” Glanni petted soothingly at his son’s head. “I think we’re both pretty happy about our woods. They give us a nice, shaded backyard and a good place to rest.”  
In truth, they hadn’t been in the backyard since Glanni had found the bigger pile of bones. It had been a little too strange.

Victoria Eberhard, however, didn’t need to know that.

Glanni gave her a tight smile, barely restraining himself from snarling at her. One growl would probably send her running, he thought as he turned away, his hands on the grocery cart.

Victoria stepped in front of them, one of her high-heeled shoes jamming into the bottom part of the cart and forcing him to stop. “Now, I’m just bein’ friendly, is all. Surely you don’t need all that space for you and your son? My husband, he likes huntin’, and you’ve got a plot of land you don’t seem to be using. I’ve said it before, we could just buy each other’s houses, you get a nice, two bedrooms, we get a place to hunt. Seems fair, don’t it?”

“No,” Glanni dragged his cart away from her, his upper lip pulled back. He was done playing nice. “You need to learn when to back off,” he was growling, could feel Robin’s harness almost shaking as he snarled at her. “And hunting is illegal within city limits. I have explained this before, I do not want to explain it again, especially not to someone whose brain seems to have been damaged by the amount of peroxide she pours on her head. I am not buying that rat-trap shithole you call a house and you are not taking mine from me. You can try, but it’ll come down to prying it from my cold, _dead_ , hands. Good _day_ , missus Eberhard.”

Glanni turned on his heel, wheeling the cart away and pressing a soothing hand to Robin’s stomach.

Both of them were shaking.

 

~

 

The noise was back.

Glanni rolled up into a sitting position, blinking slowly as it registered. It had dragged him out of sleep, broken into his dreams and pulled him back to consciousness. The monitor on his bedside table was quiet, the noises of Robin’s breathing a reassurance, and he almost flopped back down and fell asleep again.

He bolted out of bed when it sounded like someone slamming against the glass of the sliding door.

The thudding came again, followed by the screech of something sharp on glass, and Glanni paused to grab the cane he kept in his closet. It had been his grandfather’s and it was hefty, a solidly-wooden thing that the crotchety old bastard had used to thump people on the head. The old man had left it to him in his will, along with a ridiculous sum of money and the backhanded compliment of, ‘To my grandson, the only person like me in the world’.

With careful steps, Glanni made it down the stairs and paused, looking towards the back door.

From his vantage point, he could see the trees, could see the small garden that remained from the previous owners, could even see a small bit of star-studded sky. He couldn’t see the door, couldn’t see the person on the other side who still seemed to be trying to get in.

On the other hand, he bit his lip as he thought about it, they couldn’t see him.

He could still go and grab his phone, call the police and hide upstairs with his son until they arrived. No one would know he had panicked at the bottom of the steps, some odd urge in his gut telling him to run and never look back. For a moment, he thought about the remains of the animals in his backyard and had a brief mental image of himself left like that.

Glanni pulled himself upright, cane in one hand, and shook his head.

If it was the thing from the woods that had panicked previous owners, he could at least get a description of it for any sort of service he could call in to get it removed. With a deep breath, Glanni stepped down the stairs and towards the back door, clutching the cane tightly and peering into the darkness.

The noises still hadn’t stopped.

Pausing in the kitchen, just out of sight of whatever was out there, Glanni tried to focus and nearly dropped the cane. He fumbled it, managed to catch it, then dropped himself completely out of sight. The noises were still going and he didn’t want whatever it was to see him just yet. Whatever was clawing at the door had been, from the brief glance he had gotten, just shorter than him. There had been glowing eyes and too many teeth and a _tail_.

Hands that were altogether too human.

Glanni swallowed nervously, knuckles white where he held the cane and curled himself around the cabinet to get another look.

It had lowered itself to his current, seated, height. It was staring directly at him. Without a doubt, Glanni knew it had seen him. Something told him that it had always known he was there, even before he’d made it downstairs. The claws were still scraping the glass, even as it stared at him, and he held back a whimper of fear.

From upstairs, Robin had no way of knowing he should do the same.

Both Glanni and the creature outside whipped around to look, the human lunging to his feet. One sharp-clawed hand slammed against the glass, cracking it but not shattering it.

“Farðu burt!“ it snarled at him.

Glanni paused for a second, frowning at the creature before shaking his head. “No,” he gestured upstairs. “You woke up my son, you’re being _very_ rude right now,” he took another step back, forcing down the frightened shriek that tried to make itself heard. “I will not go away, you’re the one being loud right now!”

It hesitated this time, pulling back from the glass and blinking.

“I’ll be back in a moment, we can discuss what to do then, but I need to go check on him,” Glanni walked off before he could overthink what he had just said, a giddy sort of fear clutching at him. He left the cane on the floor in the kitchen, ignoring the grumbles of the creature at the door.

 

With Robin in his arms, he returned downstairs, settling him in a portable crib and getting to work on a bottle of formula to feed to him.

The creature was still at the door.

It whined when he reappeared and Robin had stared at it for a moment, one small fist jammed in his mouth. Two sets of grey-blue eyes studied the creature and it had looked back just as intently. “Are you going to try breaking my door again?” Glanni asked, one eyebrow arched as he heated up the bottle. “Because I don’t think either of us wants to deal with the broken glass that would result from that.”

It only looked confused and Glanni sighed. “I knew Icelandic would be useful some day,” he muttered. With a deep breath, he switched languages. _“Now we’re all awake, why are you slamming into my door?”_ _“_

 _You are in my territory,”_ the creature hissed back, blinking in confusion. It obviously hadn’t expected a response in a language it could speak. _“Too near.”_

 _“Excuse you?”_ Glanni frowned at it, grabbing Robin from his crib and tucking him into the crook of his arm as he fed him. His son could mostly hold his own bottle, even if he was sometimes too lazy to do so. Glanni often indulged him in that respect, supporting it for him and letting his son be lazy while eating. It was probably a bad idea, but Robin was his only kid and he was a single father. He could afford to spoil him. _“I bought this house.”_

 _“House is human,”_ it snorted, tail flicking. _“Woods are mine.”_

 _“And we’re just a touch too close,”_ Glanni glanced beyond it, towards the line of trees. _“…Do you have something you’re trying to hide? I can’t move away, I like it here and everything I need is here. I can promise that no one will ever get into the woods from my backyard.”_

It studied him, inverted-looking eyes meeting his own after a second.

Without a word, it walked off the porch, standing on two feet as it disappeared into the trees. Glanni watched where it had gone, frowning and wondering if it had all been some sort of weird dream. Robin sighed, his hands clasped around his bottle, tilting it so he could continue eating.

Less than ten minutes passed before the trees rustled and the creature came back. It was walking on all fours, this time, and something was clutched in it’s teeth. When it approached the door, Glanni tilted his head, studying it’s bundle. _“Is that-“_

 _“You have yours,”_ the creature rumbled after lying down and settling the bundle between it’s hands. _“I have mine.”_

Leaning forward in his seat, Glanni’s eyebrows shot up as he studied the ‘bundle’. On closer inspection, it was a smaller version of the creature but with blue skin instead of golden-brown. The features were the same, too-human hands and a tail sticking out behind legs shaped like a wolf’s. The tip of the small one’s tail was curled up towards it’s front, held between the tiny hands, and Glanni felt something in his heart shift.

 _“The people who lived here before,”_ he started slowly. _“You chased them off because of your baby.”_

It nodded, nuzzled into the mop of ice-blue hair for a moment. _“Newborn,”_ it whispered. _“Can’t defend himself yet. Humans can’t be trusted. You were a threat,”_ It jerked it’s chin towards Robin. The human baby had curled up in his father’s lap, the bottle hugged to his chest and his eyes half-closed. _“Small and soft, can’t defend itself.”_

 _“My son barely even likes holding his own food,”_ Glanni smiled, curling Robin closer for a second. _“Not exactly what you could call a dangerous threat. My mother, however…If you see her, feel free to chase her off.”_

_“You?”_

_“Me?”_ Glanni gestured at himself to double check he’d understood. _“I work as a costume designer for a theater in town and as an advisor in a business firm. Whatever time I am not spending working is spent with my son.”_

The creature studied him again, seeming to conclude, _“Not a threat,”_ it rumbled. _“Name?”_

 _“Glanni Glæpur,”_ he jiggled the sleeping infant in his arms. _“Robin.”_

 _“_ _Íþróttaálfurinn,”_ it patted it’s own chest, then traced a curled finger over the small nose sticking out from the sleeping little one. _“Tryggvi.”_

 _“Are we allowed to stay?”_ Glanni asked quietly. _“Like I said, we need to be here. He needs a better future than being indebted in the same way I am to my parents. The schools around here are good and work is not far away.”_

 _“Stay,”_ Íþróttaálfurinn nodded. _“Be safe here.”_

 

~

 

They saw each other more often after that.

Their sons were roughly the same age, Glanni rationalized it as he watched Íþróttaálfurinn scurry around the backyard after his own child. The golden mop of hair on the older creature almost shone in the sunshine and Tryggvi’s delighted squeals of being chased were endearing.

Robin toddled after them, sometimes.

Tryggvi and Robin had become decently good friends the moment they had been introduced. The chubby human infant had papped his hands on Tryggvi’s cheeks a couple of times and laughed when a gentle nibble had followed, both parents watching to make sure that nothing disastrous happened. When Robbie was involved in the playtime, Íþróttaálfurinn would slow down a little, catching him with gentler hands than his own son got handled with.

Glanni watched from the porch, a cup of coffee in his hands and his laptop usually in his lap or next to him.

It was…Nice.

That was how he decided to phrase it in his mind, at least. Nice and comfortable and good. Robin had needed a friend, even if that friend was someone as unusual and out of place in the world he mostly lived in as Tryggvi was.

The two beings lived in the woods and kept things from invading, the Glæpur’s teaching them English in return.

Tryggvi was learning alongside Robin and it was oddly adorable.

Glanni squirmed in his seat, allowing himself to readjust and lay down on his stomach. The noises of two excited small children were drifting through the air and Íþróttaálfurinn’s rough rumble of a voice made something in him feel secure.

It should have been a troubling thought.

Instead, Glanni found himself wanting the two to be around constantly. Íþróttaálfurinn’s body was firm and comforting on the occasions they did make contact with each other. Tryggvi was adorable and a good friend to his own son.

Diving straight into being attracted to what many would consider a monster wasn’t exactly what he should be doing.

As a single father, he should have been looking for a mother for his son. That was what the stories all said, mentioned the lonely teacher or the loving widow or any of a number of clichés. Glanni had never actually been attracted to women, however. The seven-month marriage that had been clause-sealed consummated, an unhappy night for both of them, and produced Robin had been as close as he had gotten. Marissa had gotten pregnant the first time they had slept together, waited it out past the point Glanni’s parents had demanded they stay together, then gone off and found someone to actually love her.

They had divorced with smiles on their faces and Marissa already signing all custody of their child over to him.

She had never really wanted children at the age they were.

Glanni sighed, covering the back of his neck and smiling. Here and now, with two beings who weren’t human and his marriage a thing of memory, here was where he was happy. Íþróttaálfurinn was almost a second parent to his son, had decided early on to protect him.

Soft and squishy, he’d said once. Easily harmed if not watched over.

A shadow fell over Glanni and he looked up, smiling to see Íþróttaálfurinn standing there, the back of Robin’s shirt in his teeth. Robin himself looked happy too, squirming only a little.

“Ah,” Glanni accepted his son, sitting up as he did. “Were you waiting until I had gone to lie down?”

“Maybe,” Íþróttaálfurinn’s eyes gleamed with mischief, an expression helped by the uncontrollable grin he wore. “Is maybe what I was doing. Either way, is smelly child. Needs…” he frowned, searching his memory for the right word in English. “…Diaper?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Glanni nodded. “We’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll bring some fruit out for you two when I return.” Íþróttaálfurinn nodded, curling around himself to head back to the grass and his own child.

 

~

 

“Robin Glæpur?”

Grey-blue eyes stared back at the teacher, a frown on the lips of the same face. “It’s Robbie,” he muttered. “’M not a bird.”

“Oh,” his teacher frowned as well, looking around for a moment before kneeling next to the crying child. “Is your dad late picking you up today?” he put a hand on his own knee, the other on the ground to brace himself. “Or was someone else supposed to pick you up?”

“Dad’s running late,” Robbie muttered. “But he was supposed to be here.”

“I’m sure he will be,” his teacher smiled reassuringly. “Do you want to come sit in the office while I call him and see where he is? I’m sure he’ll be here at any minute, but we just want to make sure.”

Robbie scrubbed at his face with a small fist, shaking his head. “No.”

“You-“

Glanni stepped into view, breathing a little heavily and reaching out to take his son’s hand. “Sorry I’m late today,” he glanced at the teacher, a small, fake smile on his face. “I got caught up in a project at work. I am sorry,” he leaned down to pick Robbie up, settling him on a hip. “Mister…”

“O’Neil,” the teacher filled in. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Robbie looked at the other man and made a face. “We’re fine,” he muttered.

Mister O’Neil looked between them, watching them until Glanni had walked around a corner and disappeared from sight.

 

 

“I got caught up in working on something,” Glanni let Robbie find his own footing on the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Robbie shrugged, taking his dad’s hand. “Is Tryggvi waiting?”

“I think they both are,” Glanni smiled, letting his son swing their joined hands back and forth. The lines around his eyes had gotten deeper, stress darkening the bags under his eyes. “Íþróttaálfurinn mentioned wanting to have a meal together with us today, so I made sure to pack us all food before leaving the house. It’s waiting in the fridge.”

Robbie nodded, staying quiet.

“What’s the matter?” Glanni clicked a heel against the ground, catching Robbie’s gaze for a second. “Something seems wrong, want to tell me what it is?”

“We talked about parents, today,” Robbie said quietly. Glanni felt like the breath had been pulled entirely out of him, less a punch to the gut and more an absence of oxygen. “Yes?”

“Why don’t I have a mom?” Robbie looked up at him, every ounce of his six-year old focus pinned on his dad. “Everyone else has a mom and a dad or two dads or two moms and I don’t have a mom. And no one else has an Íþró, so where does he fit in everything?”

“I…” Glanni looked around, making sure there were no cars to run over them before he kneeled down. Putting himself on Robbie’s level had always worked, it put the kid at ease and made it easier to speak to him without him getting defensive and upset. “Your mother and I didn’t love each other. We only got married because Grandmother,” he waited while Robbie stuck out his tongue unhappily. “Told me I had to. Your mother is a woman named Marissa, and she is a good person but she and I just weren’t meant to be together.”

“Why didn’t she want me?” Always the sign of a Glæpur, that was. Unwilling to beat around the bush and draw things out, even as children.

“That is a very difficult question. She wasn’t ready for kids when she had you. We were married for a little while and she had you,” Glanni smiled, hoping to ease the impact. “She thought she was too young and I think she was right. She wasn’t ready.”

“What about Íþró?” Robbie asked, his little face still so solemn.

“Íþró,” Glanni began gently. “Is someone I consider part of our family. I have a few hopes and things I want, but he adores you as my son and his son’s best friend. He has said he will be there to make sure you’re happy and safe.”

Robbie thought about it for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright.”

Glanni took his hand and stood up, walking home to where their friends were.

 

~

 

“Robin,” was what he heard when he woke up.

It was Saturday, his dad was supposed to be waking him up so that they could go into the backyard and meet with Íþró and Tryggvi. The woman standing in his bedroom was not his dad. She smelled like flowers, the kind that hit you in the face with how strong it was and her hair was pulled back in a way that made her nose seem even more beak-like than it was. “Oh, sweetheart, you probably don’t remember me,” she smiled at him and Robbie balked backward, curling away from her.

He’d seen her smile before, on the wolves in his nightmares.

“I’m your grandmother,” she stepped closer to the bed. “My name is Andrea Glæpur. Your father is going to be going away for a while, and you need to come live with us. We’ll make sure you have a good school and a good future.”

The way she lifted her head made him wary, her chin held just a little too high. She was going to decide everything for him.

Robbie, thinking quickly like only a six-year old could, nodded. “Can I get something from the woods?” he asked quietly. “Dad and I have a fort out there. I left a toy in it.”

“You may,” Andrea nodded, looking like she thought it was a huge concession. “You have five minutes.”

The moment she left, Robbie threw on some clothes and shoes, grabbed a toy to pretend to find, and bolted out the back door. He hoped they were both awake already, they usually were. If they weren’t, he didn’t know what he would do.

He couldn’t leave without them knowing.

Íþró had said he would protect Robbie and his dad. Tryggvi would be upset if his friend suddenly disappeared without warning. If Íþró wasn’t told where they were going, something bad would happen. Robbie panted a little as he ran down the path towards the river, nearly skidding a couple of times. On the last slip, Robbie nearly falling into the water, a strong arm wrapped around him and kept him upright.

“Robbie,” Íþró blinked a couple of times, his teeth sharp and white and somehow less terrifying than Grandmother Andrea’s.

“Íþró,” Robbie squirmed to be put down. “I’m leaving. Grandmother showed up and dad wasn’t there to wake me up and something is happening and I don’t know what it is. I told them I needed to grab a toy from the woods, I don’t think she would let me go if I hadn’t said that.”

Tryggvi came bounding over to them, his tail swishing from side to side. “Robbie is leaving?”

“I don’t know _why_ ,” Robbie groaned. “But I needed to tell you.”

Íþró reached over and put a hand on his head, claws carefully turned away. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “If you need to go, you need to go. Should be back soon?”

“She said I needed to stay with her for a while,” Robbie was shaking, his hands clenched tightly around the small toy boat he held. “I don’t know how long it is and I don’t like it!”

Cupping both hands around his chin, Íþró smiled. “Will be okay!”

Tryggvi nudged his head into Robbie’s side, whining almost miserably. “Will,” he muttered after a second. “Don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go,” Robbie dropped his toy and wrapped both of his arms around his friend. On the path above them, he could hear footsteps. “You have to hide!” he squeaked, pushing away from both of them. “She told me I only had five minutes, you have to go!”

That had always been the one rule about Íþró and Tryggvi.

Robbie snatched up the boat and ran, looking back at them one last time. He was quick enough to see the tails disappear into the trees, his dad’s words echoing in his mind.

 _“_ _We have a secret to keep,”_ he had said. _“If someone finds out about them, they’ll be in danger. Never tell anyone about them.”_

_“_ _But Tryggvi is my friend!”_

_“And I’m glad for it. The two of you are good friends and you are the reason I didn’t get chased off by Íþró in the first place. But the world around us, that’s dangerous to them. If someone finds out about them, dangerous and bad things will happen to them. It’s our secret,”_ Glanni had held a finger to his lips and smiled. _“And we Glæpurs keep secrets to our graves, if we need to.”_

_“_ _I promise.”_

Robbie reappeared in the backyard, meeting his grandmother’s gaze with a little bit of frantic terror. He held up the boat and she nodded, turning and walking away. When he didn&rsquot follow, she stopped and clicked her tongue, pointing to her side. “Come _here_ , Robin.”

After a moment of staring at her, eyes narrowing, Robbie followed slowly.

It felt like he was being watched from the trees with every step he took away from them. When they got back into the house, he turned to look one last time. Seeing nothing, he waved goodbye to the forest and tried not to cry as the door was shut behind him.


	2. Returning Home (Feeling Lost)

The funeral was a quiet affair.

Robbie shifted in his seat, almost rocking back and forth with how much he wanted out of the building. The service was lovely, the people were dressed well, the food was great, but he wanted out. Grandmother Andrea had been dead for six days and he wanted as far away from her as he could go.

She had been a cruel woman and he didn’t want anything more to do with her.

When he had been six years old, almost seven, she had arrived at the house he lived in with his father. He hadn’t seen his dad after that, hadn’t ever been told of where he went or why. He remembered the forest, remembered the trees and the river and the enormous backyard.

He had missed it.

With Andrea’s passing, he could return to it. He’d managed to wheedle out of her that the house still belonged to the family, even if no one lived there. It was taken care of, she’d said. No sense in letting a house that lovely go to waste. With both of his grandparents’ dead and his father still missing, Robbie had inherited everything. All the accounts, the houses, every scrap of land they had owned and all the furniture.

The service ended and he was all but running for the door.

For the first time in something like fourteen years, he could get _away from her_. Robbie breathed, pulling off his tie as he bee-lined for his car. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he ignored the instant thought of, ‘ _Now I can go back_ ’. The house was the first thing he wanted to see, immediately, and he’d already packed an overnight bag.

He couldn’t explain why.

There were flashes of something, of some sort of memory in that place. What he could pick out of them felt like a dream. It had to be, Robbie thought as he glanced at the rearview mirror and switched lanes. His phone was telling him where to go and he sighed in relief as he turned off the main road. Nothing like what he remembered could be real, he’d been a child when he had left and it had been traumatizing for his father to abandon him.

That was all it was.

Glanni Glæpur had been an overworked financial and advertising advisor for a local business. He had never been cut out for being a father, which was why he had cut and run when Robbie was six. Robbie had always had a wild imagination, had always gotten in trouble at the new schools his grandparents had enrolled him in. Too much time spent drawing in the margins of his papers, too much time spent in the theater department and the costume room.

Almost every paper from his school years had a sketch of the creatures he dreamed about on them.

It felt like it took forever for him to reach the old house.

Andrea Glæpur, if nothing else, had kept her word about the place. It was well maintained, the windows clean and the paint on the outside fresh and clean. The bushes that lined the path into the backyard were a little overgrown, but that didn’t bother him.

For the first time in almost a decade and a half, Robbie felt like he was _home._

He got out of the car, grabbing his bag from the backseat and locking the car behind him. The house didn’t feel any different than he remembered. Light pink on the outside, a color his father had insisted on, with as many windows as it could have and still be structurally sound. Robbie remembered sunlight streaming in from all sides, his father’s smile as he told him a story.

The memories still hurt.

The door opened smoothly, his key fitting into the lock perfectly, and Robbie stepped inside. A moment of silence followed, his footsteps settling in the layer of dust on the ground. For some reason, it felt like the house was waiting for him to say something.

“I’m,” Robbie paused, eyes pinned to the wall, studying the flowery designs on the wall borders. Painted on, his father had spent hours’ hand-painting them throughout the entire house. “I’m home,” he managed at last. It was more of a whisper than anything, the words catching and bringing a wave of emotion with them. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

He remembered something else, a quiet promise to only be gone for so long.

He wasn’t even sure if it was a promise.

Saying goodbye to the house had been one of the hardest things to do. His childhood had been spent there until Andrea had come in and dragged him away. After that, it had been spread between the tomb-like mansion his grandparents lived in and the similar vacation homes they had around the world. Don’t touch this, don’t touch that, no playing in the halls, don’t track mud in, don’t wear your good shoes outside, don’t go outside at all, don’t breathe on this, don’t be loud.

The rules had been endless.

Robbie had often wondered if that was why his father had escaped the moment he could, then run further when Robbie was older.

Shutting the door behind him, Robbie set his bag down and wandered up the stairs. There were still photos on the walls, pictures of him and his father at various points in their lives. An image of Glanni and him dressed in matching onesies with floppy ears and tails made him snort with quiet laughter. Somewhere, once upon a time, there had been a loving father and son relationship.

He wondered if his father had ever missed him.

Robbie had missed his father, after all. Surely it wasn’t too much of a stretch to think that the man had missed his own offspring?

Pushing that thought away, Robbie rounded the corner to where his old bedroom was.

The door still had the purple letters spelling out, “Robin” on the front of it and he scoffed at them. Pushing it open revealed the room, still the way it was when he had left it, and he paused at the door. Robbie could almost see himself running around the room, small hands and small feet and just generally _small_. An excited child in a world that would soon prove to be hateful and unloving.

His toys had been left behind, as had most of his clothing. 

Andrea had insisted on everything new.

Robbie shook off the spike of hatred, swallowing nervously as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Everything was still there. He opened the bedside table, stared at the contents for a moment before pulling out the small sketchbook and flipping through it. Flashes of color passed him by, each one drawing a laugh from him.

Until he stopped, somewhere in the middle.

The drawing was of him and a creature drawn entirely in blue. Light blue for the hair, dark blue for the clothing, something in between for the skin. The dreams of the creatures that lived in the woods had always been in his mind, even as a child, he decided.

He left his bedroom shortly after that, the sketchbook in his hands as he wandered back downstairs.

 

Robbie settled himself on the couch, letting his body sink into the cushions, and groaned as he relaxed into a half-asleep state.

He had spent all day wandering around the house, dusting things off here and there. Occasionally crying over photo albums his father had put together and little mementos he found stashed in various places. Things like a labeled chart of his baby teeth, the first couple of spaces holding teeth with a date written neatly below them.

Things like a box of carefully stored baby clothes, scented sachets folded into the layers of fabric.

All over the house were signs of a loving father and Robbie didn’t want to try to wade through memories to understand _why the man had left_. Everything in the house suggested that Glanni Glæpur had been a good father, A plus and wonderful.

“I just don’t _understand_ ,” he muttered to the empty room, gesturing dramatically. “If he was so good, why did he _leave?_ ”

He should have been used to his parents not wanting him, his own mother abandoning him ages ago when he was a newborn. His father had bought a house to play pretend in, his grandmother had told him. Glanni had wanted somewhere to be where he didn’t have to see his parents every day and it had been so _selfish_ of him. 

There were only vague memories for Robbie to go off of, so he had to trust the word of a woman he’d never liked.

Exhausted, a headache forming, and his body sore from having gone up into the attic, Robbie closed his eyes, threw an arm over his face, and fell asleep.

_Tap._

_Tap tap tap._

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

 

When he woke up again, Robbie found himself in the middle of a sun-patch, pleasantly warm and comfortable, despite having gone to sleep in the suit he’d worn to the funeral.

He groaned as he sat up, rolling himself off the couch and towards where he had left the bag. With it in hand, he went to the bathroom and got ready for the day, coming back out and dropping it and his suit on the couch he had slept on. Despite the not-bed and the clothing, Robbie felt rested, like something about coming home had made up for the fourteen years of exhaustion and insomnia.

Robbie cracked his neck, rolling his head from side to side as he went into the kitchen.

It was clean, just like the rest of the house.

One of the cupboards had a package of instant coffee, the seal still in place, and Robbie pulled it out. He scooped some into a mug and turned on the kettle that sat on the stove. While he waited for it to boil, he looked at the backyard. 

The trees were bigger now, fourteen years of growth doing to them what it had done to him, but it was still instantly recognizable as the place he had spent a good portion of his childhood playing in. Robbie frowned, watching one section of the bushes move like something was hiding in them. He crossed over to the door, his hands on the handle before he really knew what he was doing.

It was locked, he realized after a moment of tugging ineffectually. 

His dad had never kept it locked.

Robbie had always been told it was a safe neighborhood, the police station just down the road in one direction and a cluster of schools in the other. With that in mind, his father had never locked the door, preferring it open so that Robbie could go in and out as he pleased. 

He hesitated over the lock before pulling it back, sliding the door open.

There were birds chirping, a soft breeze rustling the trees, and Robbie felt something inside of him relax even further. He was definitely home, more comfortable than he had been in a long time, and he wandered out into the grass. It felt nice to be outside, somewhere he wouldn’t have to listen to Andrea’s constant shouting, memory echoing the old vulture’s voice.

Behind him, the kettle whistled.

Robbie turned and walked back inside, pouring hot water into the mug and resetting everything so that it would be easy to return to it and use it again. With that done, he stepped back outside and sat down on the edge of the porch. His mug of coffee was steaming gently, the porcelain warm in his hands, and he felt at peace. He closed his eyes, letting himself relax.

Not even the out of place footsteps he heard could disturb him. 

“You are aware that this is private property, yes?” he asked, eyes still closed. When no response came, he opened them and glanced sideways.

With a startled yelp, the mug of coffee met the concrete and shattered, spilling coffee across it and into the edge of the grassy area. Robbie almost followed after it, one leg bracing against the ground as he clutched desperately at his chest, over his racing heart. His eyes were wide and panicked as they stayed pinned on the new arrival. 

The blue creature in front of him simply smiled, too many sharp teeth in it’s mouth, and waved. “Hello!” it said happily.

“…Hello?” Robbie managed to squeeze the word out, still almost hyperventilating. 

“You look like Robbie,” it spoke again, nose wrinkling a little. “Smell like Robbie. Are you Robbie?”

Hesitating for a moment, Robbie nodded, leaning back up slowly. “My name is Robbie Glæpur,” he offered the information quietly, shock starting to fade. He watched the tail swish back and forth for a moment, blinking a couple of times. 

This must be what going mad felt like.

The creature pounced on him, wrapping thickly muscled limbs around him and purring in delight. “Robbie!” it laughed. “Robbie is back!”

Robbie dredged through his memories, face flushing at the warmth clinging to him, and frowned. There was something, so far back it felt like a dream, and maybe he never had been imagining things. “…Tryggvi?” he whispered.

“Yes!” the creature pulled back, bracing it’s hands on the porch beside Robbie’s head. “Is me!”

“Holy shit,” Robbie muttered, drawing his arms up so he could lean on his elbows. “You’re real. You actually exist. Does that mean-“ he whipped around to look at the woods, eyes wide. “Íþró.”

“Pabbi!” Tryggvi called out to the trees, almost bouncing with excitement. “Is Robbie!”

“I know we taught you English,” Robbie groused as he eased himself out from underneath Tryggvi’s weighty bulk. “You learned when I did. Although, I doubt you’ve had anyone to speak English to since I lef- holy hell.”

Íþró was suddenly sitting in front of him, crouched down in a position that, while not a threat in the least, was still intimidating. “Robbie,” he spoke with a smile, his voice a pleasant rumble. His claws had gotten sharper, his hair longer and more wild, and he still looked like he had when Robbie had been a child. “It is good to see you.”

Tryggvi was bouncing in his seated position now, grinning and nudging his head against Robbie’s shoulder. “He’s back!”

Nodding, Íþró leaned forward and combed his claws through Robbie’s hair, gentle and careful. “Is your father here?” he asked quietly, worry worn on his face in a way that seemed as human as it could possibly be. “I would have thought he’d come back with you. The night before you left, he mentioned something about coming to visit us again, reminded us of the time we were supposed to spend together. You came running into the woods and I was afraid something had happened.”

“And then neither of us returned,” Robbie frowned as he curled his knees to his chest. Tryggvi dropped his head to Robbie’s shoulder, keeping it there this time. “I don’t…I don’t know where he is. I woke up that day and he was gone.”

“You haven’t seen him since?”

Robbie shook his head. “Not once. No letters, no phone calls, nothing.”

Íþró’s upper lip pulled back, his mustache-like whiskers twitching. “Something happened. He would not have left you. Would not have left-“ he let the sentence cut off as he growled. “Glanni would not have left if it had been up to him.”

Tryggvi curled closer, pressing his weight into Robbie’s side.

Something in his chest, even above the anxiety and worry that had always plagued him, felt warm for the first time in a _long_ time.

 

~

 

“Mister Glæpur?”

The voice was gentle, almost kind, and he didn’t want to go anywhere near it. The voice’s body was holding a small cup that contained pills and he didn’t want anything to do with them. They only made him hurt and sick and feel gross. There was nothing good about them, nothing they provided him that he wanted.

“Mister Glæpur, you have to take your medicine. Doctor’s orders,” a hand on his shoulder and he twitched, he was _always_ twitching and he always had a headache and he wanted to sleep, just let him sleep already, _please_. He had been there for so long, always told it was doctor’s orders, and he just wanted to go home. He wasn’t sure how long, exactly, it had been, but his son was waiting at home for him. The only people who would step in to care for Robin were his grandparents and he didn’t want that to happen. 

They had almost ruined him, he didn’t want them touching his son.

He couldn’t fight back, no strength left in his body as the gave him the pills from the little cup and he swallowed them against his will. His body was weak, stuck in a chair to help him move around, and he had lost track of things a long time ago.

Something was waiting for him, he remembered that. Someone other than his son.

There was so much pain, it felt like his body was falling apart around him. His stomach was the worst part, unable to hold down any food and they had him hooked up to a machine that did the best it could with an unwilling body.

He didn’t remember what sunlight looked like anymore.

Shaking, he was pulled from his chair and settled into a bed. He stared at the wall until his eyes slipped closed, too weak to keep them open. 

 

~

 

Robbie made sure the door was unlocked when he went back inside.

Both of the strange beings he had accepted as family, as normal and familiar when he was a child, followed him back inside, Tryggvi purring happily and walking next to him. Íþróttaálfurinn followed behind them, waiting for Tryggvi to go loping up the stairs, following Robbie. Both tails were twitching as they followed the human’s footsteps. Robbie glanced back at them, pausing with a hand on his father’s bedroom door. “I’m glad you two are still here,” he said quietly.

“Is our territory,” Tryggvi leaned back on his haunches, grinning at him. “Weren’t going to leave.”

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded, his long ears twitching as he listened closely. “Clock is ticking,” he said after a moment. “…Battery? Been replaced. Wasn’t, last time I listened.”

“The only person coming to this house now is _me,_ ” Robbie grumbled, pushing open the door. The room was how he remembered it, however vaguely. The bedspread was still the warm blankets in the dusty pink his father had loved, the clock on the wall ticking away. It had a small pendulum, a raven on the end, and the numbers were roman numerals. “Unless my father walks in the front door, no one but me is allowed in. Well,” he amended quickly. “You two are allowed.”

“Thanks you,” Tryggvi was purring again, his chin resting on Robbie’s knee. “Why in here?”

“Looking for something,” Robbie scritched gently at the spot above Tryggvi’s ear, uncurling from his hold and walking towards the file cabinets in the corner of the room. “Do you two still read?” he asked, popping a drawer open. “I know my father taught you, but sometimes, without practice…”

“It was hard,” Íþróttaálfurinn stepped closer, one hand on the edge of the drawer. “Finding times and things to read.”

Robbie nodded. “I was figuring. I need to go through these files and see if my father left any clues to his whereabouts. From what I remember and what you were saying, he wouldn’t have just left. I remember a man who hand-painted portions of this place to be what he wanted them to be. I…He put my name on my door in a color I love and didn’t say anything about boys not being able to like purple. Most likely because his favorite color was pink, but…”

He shook his head, grabbing a handful of files and setting them on the bed. There was an expression of unease in his eyes. “My father loved me,” he said quietly.

“He did,” Íþróttaálfurinn leaned up on his toes and pressed the bottom of his chin into Robbie’s hair, nuzzling him. “Would not have left you. Small baby you was the reason he bargained to stay here. I tried to chase him off, at first. Talked to him when you revealed by crying. Small Robin,” he purred, the noise rumbling through his chest and through Robbie’s body. “Needed defending and safe place. Small Tryggvi, needed defending and safe place.”

He glanced at his own son, smiling. “Both needed each other. Both sets. Small ones and big ones.”

Robbie smiled back at him, scrubbing at his own face with the heel of his hand. 

 

He was woken up the next morning by Íþróttaálfurinn shaking him awake.

Robbie groaned as he woke up, stretching so thoroughly that he nearly fell off the bed, back popping and snapping, cracking back into place. The first thing that came to mind was a blue streak a mile wide as he managed to roll off the bed. 

The second thing was the mild glare Íþróttaálfurinn was leveling at him, catching him and setting him on his feet. “You haven’t eaten,” he huffed the words out. “And there is a thing.”

“…A thing?”

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded solemnly, turning and wandering out the door. Tryggvi was sitting on the floor next to the bed, looking at Robbie with a grin. “Door was loud,” he said gently. “Pabbi did not like it. Person came and dropped off thing, left again. Did not try to get in,” he let out a small whine. “Robbie needs to eat.”

He picked Robbie up and walked out the door, ignoring the man’s confused protests.

The stairs provided no challenge for Tryggvi, even with his arms full of squirming human. Robbie sighed and eventually just held still, raising an eyebrow when he was carefully set on his feet near the front door. “Thing,” he muttered, opening it briefly and glancing down. There was a thick envelope, first class mail, and he picked it up before shutting the door. “ _Thing,_ ” he muttered again. 

His brain, even half-asleep, slammed to a halt when he read the return address.

_‘Pine Hills Sanatorium and Care Home for the Mentally Handicapped’._

A mental asylum.

Robbie slipped his finger under the edge of the flap, frowning as he pulled it apart and got to the papers inside. “Bill due,” he made a face. “Who…Payment owed,” he sighed, leaning back against the door. “Patient name-“

The papers dropped to the floor and he stared at them, suddenly wide awake. 

Both of the forest-dwelling beings looked at him, Íþróttaálfurinn bounding over and grabbing Robbie’s shoulders, helping settle him on the ground. Tryggvi dropped to lay down next to his friend, his chin on Robbie’s thigh as he curled his arms around him. “Robbie?”

Robbie was trembling, still staring at a random spot on the floor. He tried a couple of times to get words out, then shook his head, gesturing towards the papers.

Íþróttaálfurinn got to them first, bringing them back within reach and glancing at them. 

“You wake and sleep with the sun,” Robbie managed at last. “I slept deeply as a child. If…Someone could have gotten into the house and- I think someone got into the house and took him. You wouldn’t have been awake, I wouldn’t have heard _anything,_ ” he was hyperventilating now and Íþróttaálfurinn dragged both of them into his arms, the bottom of his chin resting on Robbie’s head. “You…You’re right. My father wouldn’t have left me. He _didn’t_. He…The bill is addressed to my grandmother, there’s a patient admittance date- _He has been there for fourteen years._ ”

Both of them curled tighter around him, Tryggvi’s face pressed into his stomach as he whined. Robbie’s sadness was upsetting him and he wanted nothing more than to help the man.

“I need to go get him,” Robbie muttered, his hands curling in Tryggvi’s hair. The floppy ears perked up a little at his words and both of them seemed to relax after a second, just slightly. “I…I need to get him out of there, they’ve been medicating him,” he burst into movement, grabbing the papers and looking at them again. “Risperdal,” he fumbled across the room for his bag, digging his phone out and navigating almost faster than he could think. “Antipsychotic,” he bit his lip as he scrolled through the results, frowning. “We need to get him back here,” he said after a minute. “They’re medicating a man who doesn’t need it.”

“What does it do?” Íþróttaálfurinn walked up behind him, crouching down to look at the screen. 

“It destroys his body,” Robbie swallowed nervously. “And it might kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Robbie, honey.
> 
> Oh, Glanni.
> 
> I...Feel a little bad about doing this to them. Got to be honest.


	3. Love Letter To Our Past

“You’re here for Glanni?” the woman who sat behind the front desk of the care home looked up at Robbie. “No one has visited him in years.”

“Yes, I know,” Robbie clenched his hand into a fist under the edge of the desk on his side, out of her sight. “I was never told where he was taken to,” he pulled out his wallet, handing over his ID. “I’m Robin, his son. My grandmother had him committed, she never…She never told me where. I didn’t know until recently when she passed away.”

The look of alarm nearly matched the panic in his chest and she stared at him for a moment. “Just one moment,” she said quietly. Her tone had shifted, gentler than before.

Robbie nodded, breathing slowly out his mouth. “Thank you.”

Pine Hills was an interesting place. Small and tucked out of the way, the sort of place people were sent to be forgotten. The staff seemed nice enough, helpful even when they were reluctant to share information about patients. In the bag hanging off his shoulder, Robbie had documents that he had found, his grandmother’s signature on them, the signature of a doctor who had once worked at Pine Hills. 

He had enough proof to file a lawsuit against the man who had agreed to falsify documents and a diagnosis. 

“You can go back now,” he was told a few minutes later. “Glanni’s nurse had to get him out of bed, into a wheelchair,” she smiled and it was strained, worried and unhappy. “He isn’t doing well.”

“I would also ask for discharge papers,” he said softly. “My father is coming home with me.”

“…What?”

“My father,” Robbie pulled the bag off his shoulder, setting it on the front desk. “Is coming home with me. My grandmother donated monthly sums to this place in exchange for the doctor who checked him in keeping quiet about my father being falsely diagnosed and forcefully medicated with Risperdal. I have all the documents here,” he held up the bag strap for a second. “And I have the number of a lawyer on speed dial. I talked to her before coming here today.”

“I-“ her face drained of blood, eyes going wide. “I can certainly start on that paperwork for you.”

“Good,” Robbie pulled the bag back against his side. “I’d like to see my father now.”

She waved him back, lunging for the phone with fury overtaking the misery in her expression. On the fringe of his hearing, Robbie heard her demanding to speak with someone, the anger in her voice obvious. The words, “Mistreatment of a patient” were the last thing he heard from her before he found the room his father had been living in for years.

Glanni Glæpur in a wheelchair at the age of forty-two was not something he had wanted to see. The man he remembered was decently healthy, his body stronger than what he currently looked like. His hair was graying at the edges and his eyes were unfocused, his hands limp on the arms of the wheelchair.

Swallowing nervously, Robbie went to him, kneeling down to meet his eyes. “Dad?”

The nurse he hadn’t even seen stepped forward and smiled, walking around him. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said sweetly. “Call me if you need me!”

He ignored her.

The eyes that once had looked so much like his own were still pinned somewhere over his shoulder, even unfocused as they were. “Dad,” Robbie said again. “It’s me. Robbie. Well,” he paused, held his breath for a second, releasing it with a whoosh. “Robin.”

No response.

Robbie settled on the floor in front of him, letting his gaze drop to the frame of the wheelchair. “I know you haven’t seen me in a long time, and I am sorry about that,” he continued, trying to find the right words. “I thought…Grandmother Andrea always said that you ran off, left me behind. Without you there and without being old enough to really remember, I sort of…Had to take her word for it. I was a child, I didn’t-“ he cut himself off, hands wringing as he bit his lip.

This was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

His father was still staring blankly over his shoulder, blinking occasionally. His breathing was harsh, stuttering and wheezing, like he wasn’t able to get a full and deep breath. After a moment, Robbie curled his hands together in his lap. “I found them again,” he whispered. “Tryggvi and Íþró, I mean. We’re all just waiting for you, at this point, the only member of our little family who still needs to come back to us.”

When he glanced up again, Glanni’s eyes had focused on him.

“Dad?” Robbie sat up a little straighter, leaning forward. “Dad, can you hear me? I’m- I’m not even sure if you’re aware of what I’m saying right now, but it’s me. It’s Robbie. Robin. I’m taking you home, today.”

“…Robbie,” his voice was weak, shaky and hoarse, the sort of sound one would commonly associate with a rusted gate creaking open. “Robbie?”

“Yeah,” Robbie curled his dad’s hand in between his own, watched his fingers twitch, frowning when he couldn’t make his hand grasp. “Dad, you’re alright, I’m taking you home today,” he tried to smile, knew it came out as a grimace, choked up and wrong feeling. “Home, where I found them and I returned to it. The house is still there, painted and familiar.”

“Home…” Glanni sighed, his face almost making it into the expression he wanted. “Íþró.”

“Íþró,” Robbie nodded. “And Tryggvi. I found them again, told them where I had gone and that I needed to find you before anything else really happened. Íþró missed you, too.”

“Robbie,” Glanni lurched forward in his chair, his eyes suddenly focusing intently, his body responding to his wants. He was still weak, fourteen years in a falsely medicated state making him so, but he was strong enough to grab Robbie’s shoulder, even with his fingers twitching. “My mother,” he gasped the words out, almost falling forward to the floor before his son caught him. “Put me here, she’s dangerous, she-“

“She’s dead,” Robbie settled him back in the chair. “Her funeral was a couple of days ago.”

“Dead?” searching his son’s face, Glanni finally relaxed, his spine curving to let him sit against the back of the chair. “Good. Vicious monster, deserves it.”

“Everything she owned is now under my name,” Robbie said quietly. “And I got a bill at our house about you. It’s how I found you,” he let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “I went straight there from the funeral, I thought you had run out on me. She came and took me away the day we were supposed to meet up with them.”

“They’re real?” 

“Yes,” nodding, Robbie pulled out his phone, scrolling through photos to stop on one he had snapped of the two of them before coming to find his father. “Look,” he held it up for Glanni to see, moving it closer when his father’s trembling hand couldn’t quite make it. “They let me take a photo to show you, Tryggvi is still ridiculously energetic and bounces everywhere all the time. Íþró managed to hold still for the photo, though.”

There was something soft in Glanni’s expression when his eyes focused on Íþróttaálfurinn. “Were they waiting?” he asked after a few moments. “We never told them, didn’t have time.”

“I told them when she came to get me,” Robbie’s grin was smug, his eyes flashing. “I told her I’d left a toy in the woods, in a fort we’d made together. Went running to find them and tell them that something was happening, Íþró tried to stay calm for both Tryggvi and me, but I was already panicking. I didn’t want to leave, I loved it there,” he glanced around at the sound of footsteps, pressing the button to turn his phone screen dark. “We’re going home today,” he said again. “If they try to medicate you, we’re going to raise hell and make it not happen.”

Glanni nodded slowly, more aware than he had been in ages. “I want to go home,” he said softly. 

 

The house was mostly as he remembered it.

Still painted pink, still the way he had altered things from what he could see, still the home he had made for himself and for his son. It hadn’t just been a betrayal for his mother to have him taken away in the middle of the night and then come back for Robbie, it had been a violation. This was their home.

Glanni intended to stay there for the rest of his life.

Inside, through one of the windows, he could see a bit of movement, like someone had ducked down and out of view. A flash of panic rushed through him and Robbie pulled completely up the driveway, turning the car off. “Dad?”

“Saw something moving inside,” he said quietly, his knuckles going white from how hard he had his hands clenched together. 

Robbie looked, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Probably Íþróttaálfurinn or Tryggvi. I gave them free reign of the house while I went and got you. They wanted to make sure that things were safe before I brought you home. Íþróttaálfurinn especially,” he paused, making a face. “Not sure I want to know why his first thought was making sure that your bedroom was in a good…Anyway.”

“…Just because he’s not human-“

“No,” Robbie shook his head, hands held up. “I have no room to talk, considering Tryggvi. It’s just that you are my father and I don’t want to know what is going on in your bedroom. They’re sentient, they are people even if they aren’t human, you’re a grown man who can make his own decisions. This is still a little awkward for us to discuss, especially within the hearing range of the rest of our little family, in there. We’ll trade tips and tricks on dealing with everything that has happened to us after you’ve gotten some sleep in your actual bed.”

“That sounds good,” Glanni yawned, jaw-cracking and enormous. “I am tired.”

“They were feeding you sedatives and Risperdal,” Robbie said, quiet and grave. “Of course you’re tired. We’re going to get you inside and to bed and then we can take everything a little at a time.”

“I’m not going to break,” Glanni scoffed, the words holding no strength in them. He was exhausted, it was obvious from looking at him, and he didn’t even bother to protest when Robbie unbuckled himself and got out of the car, coming around to open his door. It was only when his son paused, nodded, then stepped back and out of the way that he raised an eyebrow. Robbie looked around, nervous, then made a gesture that very clearly said, ‘Go ahead’.

The door opened slowly and Glanni, busy watching his son’s face, nearly jumped when a warm hand came to rest on his knee. “Glanni,” the owner of the hand purred happily. “Home again.”

“Íþróttaálfurinn,” he fought the rise of warmth in his chest at the way the other had phrased it. “It has been too long,” Glanni smiled as he reached out a hand to rest on the face of the being he had come to love fiercely, almost inhumanly so. “Are you going to help me?”

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded, not even pausing to respond with words before he was unclipping Glanni and curling him against his chest, darting back to the house.

Robbie sighed, following after and rubbing at his face.

This was family, alright, he thought as he closed the door behind him. He was quick enough to see Íþróttaálfurinn’s tail disappearing up the stairs and Tryggvi watching with interest as their fathers’ vanished from sight.

Something in the house settled, echoing to settling in his chest.

Home.

They were all finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends my take on the Cryptid AU!
> 
> Sorry folks, decided to leave things to imagination. I'm no good at explicit things and I don't feel capable of describing monster dick. Feel free to write and/or imagine it for yourself though. 
> 
> This story ends here, with Glanni being taken into the care of his monster boyfriend and Robbie considering claiming his own. Like father like son, I guess.
> 
> Once again, thanks to Celestialess for creating the designs of the cryptids and the AU itself. I have been wanting to write Cryptids of my own creation for a while, I find them fascinating, and this was me playing with how to write them.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> ...I don't know either. I wanted to play with the cryptid AU.
> 
> Let me know if I should delete it and never write for it again?
> 
> EDIT: Had to fight with the format, it didn't want to cooperate. Wifi is also patchy right now because of the weather.


End file.
